Spit It Out
by skysedge
Summary: He knew about the theory of reincarnation. Lately, he was thinking about it a lot. High school AU.


Sharing a dorm room with someone you'd known all your life wasn't as easy as Yamatonokami Yasusada had thought it would be.

He and Kashuu Kiyomitsu hadn't always been on the best of terms; he was under no illusions about that. Even as children, all scabby knees and running noses, they had bickered and fought tooth and nail over the littlest of things. Neither of them had ever said anything as strong as 'hate' but 'it's not like we're friends' was a phrase that had come to lose all meaning over the years.

Words meant nothing anyway. No matter what they fought about or how long they spent ignoring each other things always seemed to work out in the end. Sometimes it was as easy as saying hello. Other times Yasusada had needed to beat up a gang of bullies to get his point across. He had never said it aloud or thought about it too much but it ran pretty simply.

 _'You're a pain in the ass,'_ he could have said. _'But we're in this together.'_

This attitude had lasted through kindergarten, up through their schooling and now here they were, at college, ready to embrace a new and exciting adult life... together. Again. They hadn't even agreed to apply to the same college. It was getting ridiculous. And the room allocation had been random, for gods sake.

That was the cause of their first college level argument.

Kiyomitsu was tidy. Too tidy. They were unpacking on the first day in a mutually shocked silence when Yasusada lost grip of one of his books and it fell to the floor, some pages bending outwards. Sighing, he went back to unpacking.

"I hope you're not going to leave that there."

"Only for a minute, calm down."

"You arranged this on purpose, didn't you? So I could tidy up after you?"

And so it had begun. Kiyomitsu had even thrown one of his decorative scarves across the room, rather ineffectually. The way it fluttered weakly to the floor had made Yasusada laugh, dropping even more of his own things in the process. After a while, Kiyomitsu had joined in.

Same old same old. He had been hoping for a brand new lease of life here but he supposed it wouldn't be too bad having a bit of familiarity after all. They had spent the evening sharing drinks with some other friends from high school and that was that. Things became routine.

Yasusada didn't like his classes much. He learned this quickly and would have slept through his morning lectures if Kiyomitsu hadn't been there to nag him out of bed. Time in between classes he spent at the gym, working out and casually making friends with the others there. Most days, Kiyomitsu would come and pick him up.

He arrived early one afternoon well into the first semester and took a seat against the wall to watch. Even when idle, Kiyomitsu was always fixing himself in some way; combing his long fingers through his hair, smoothing out the non-existent creases in his clothes, inspecting his nails. In comparison, hair wild from motion and drenched in sweat, Yasusada wasn't sure if he felt manly or disgusting.

Kiyomitsu watched him anyway. Occasionally he threw a smile. It was impossible to know what was going on behind his scarlet eyes.

"Why does he never come and join in?"

"Huh?"

One of Yasusada's new friends was watching Kiyomitsu with a frown. Yasusada shrugged.

"He's good at sport," he explained, "but he'd rather watch. It would ruin his nails."

"What, seriously?"

"Mm. he's really fit, you know? But you should see his varnish collection."

It had been careless, speaking so freely. He hadn't meant to sound insulting but the familiarity of a long friendship could be easily misunderstood. Yasusada didn't like the laugh his comments earned from his training partners. Not one bit. He turned slowly.

"Is he gay or what?"

 _Ah_. Here, again.

"Shouldn't you mind your own business?"

Yasusada didn't crack his knuckles. Not quite. He was even smiling. They got the idea anyway and left him to it, looking thoroughly uneasy. By the time he reached Kiyomitsu his usual easy going smile was in place.

"You don't fool me you know, his friend said quietly. "Who said what this time?"

"Nothing, its fine."

"You were using that death glare again. You know, the one that makes girls cry."

"Really, it's nothing. Come on."

"You're not cute when you're angry."

"Then forget it okay?"

And so it went. They would study, he would train and they would usually have dinner together or with their mutual friends. He was fairly sure that Kiyomitsu spent the rest of his free time shopping with the girls from his fashion classes and that was fine, became just another part of the routine. It was easy, even with the usual bickering.

Nice, even.

Until Kiyomitsu stopped coming home at night.

The first time it happened, Yasusada tried not to look too much into it. It wasn't like they _had_ to eat together. They weren't joined at the hip, for goodness sake. Regardless he had waited until darkness had fallen before heading out.

On his way to the cafeteria he practically walked into Kanesada and Horikawa. In fact he didn't notice them at all until two hands landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, Yamatonokami," Kanesada ventured, "What's with that scary look?"

"Mm? Sorry, sorry. How are you?"

The pair frowned in unison at this lacklustre greeting.

"Never mind us, you look like you've lost something. Oh, I know! Did Kashuu steal one of your scarves again?"

"Kane-san," Horikawa warned. "Don't be rude."

"Have you seen him?" Yasusada asked hopefully. "I haven't heard from him since this morning."

The two shared a look before shaking their heads.

"Bet you're enjoying some time alone. Right?"

Kanesada was trying to cheer him up, like always. The effort was enough for Yasusada to smile at least. After all, he wasn't _wrong_. He could go back to their room and make as much of a mess as he wanted without anyone to throw things at him. That would show Kiyomitsu not to worry him. Right.

The hours passed. Despite his best efforts, concern was gnawing away at Yasusada, an iron knot forming deep in his stomach. Something felt wrong. Not usually prone to paranoia, he still didn't want to trust his gut feeling. No need to panic.

Panic eventually came after midnight had come and gone and Kiyomitsu failed to answer his phone when Yasusada gave in and made a call.

They both had classes in the morning and Yasusada was getting angry. Not because the lack of sleep was going to make tomorrow awful, not because he had been by himself all evening and not because he was worried about Kiyomitsu's studies. No, he was getting angry because he had been told _nothing_. No note, no text, nothing at all. Here he was, looking out of the window at the dark sky and being forced to wonder if he was going to be alone for much longer.

He felt petty. It was childish. And yet this feeling, this dread, it was all very familiar.

Kiyomitsu always came back in the end. He knew that. But deep in his heart he felt like that hadn't always been the case. It was unsettling and he hated being alone with the feeling.

By the time he fell asleep, more through exhaustion than anything else, he had resolved to have a fight in the morning. Set things straight. It wasn't fair, being made to worry. Why didn't he understand that?

It was near four in the morning when a soft footstep by the bed woke Yasusada from fitful dreaming.

"Kiyomitsu?"

His own voice sounded small and nervous. That made him angry as well.

"Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep."

He sounded tired but not unhappy. If anything, there was a joyful lilt to his voice. Yasusada could just make out his smile in the dark, not the false polite one he wore day to day but the warm, dazzling one that reminded Yasusada of spring afternoons.

"Where the hell were you?"

"Out."

"Why didn't you tell me where you were?"

"Oh?"

In the soft darkness of their room, Kiyomitsu was changing in plain view. He usually made a great deal of fuss about doing so even if they had seen it all before. Yasusada didn't like the strange hint of satisfaction in his voice, nor the smug way he cocked one arched eyebrow as he turned around at the sound of Yasusada sitting up.

"I don't need to report in to you all the time, do I?"

"No, but-"

"A little mystery adds some charm, don't you think?"

"I was _worried_!"

A fight at four in the morning was not what he had been hoping for but Yasusada was ready. Best to get it out the way, all the cruel words and hard truths, and then they could get back to normal like always. He clambered out of bed, eyes narrowed, and fixed Kiyomitsu with a glare.

"It's not cute to make people worry," he continued.

Kiyomitsu, for once, didn't take the bait. Instead he turned to the window, raising his hands to pull the tie from his hair and letting it fan out around his shoulders.

"Your eyes have gone cold again," he said softly. "It's pretty. Like the sky in winter."

"What's that supposed to-"

"Anyway, you should go back to sleep," Kiyomitsu insisted, climbing into his own bed and turning to face the wall. "I'll be staying out late a lot, okay? Don't wait up for me."

"But what-"

"That's a secret. Thank you for worrying about me."

Yasusada hated it when he spoke like that, like it was something he didn't deserve. He had long since stopped trying to argue the point. He flopped back into his own bed and turned away, frowning.

"You're a pain, you know?"

"I know."

He didn't offer any more information and Yasusada didn't ask. He was safe. That was enough for now.

The next few weeks were uncomfortable. Kiyomitsu stayed out nearly every night and an unhappy new routine was falling into place. Yasusada would distract himself for as long as possible then inevitably fall to checking his phone every few minutes, just in case. When Kiyomitsu finally got back it would wake him up and he would snap about it. Usually, Kiyomitsu would laugh. He seemed delighted with the world and it was making Yasusada mad.

The nights that he didn't go out were bad too. He wasn't acting normally. He was happy, sure, and Yasusada wondered if he was being unfair but he didn't like seeing it. Not like this. Kiyomitsu was laughing a lot at nothing in particular and his ego was out of control. Around their usual group of four this was fine, they knew how to handle him, but when others joined it was awkward.

Then there was the jewellery. Jewellery and clothing and perfume. All of it new, all of it painfully expensive. Yasusada had asked where it was all coming from.

"Hard work," had been the answer in its entirety.

Something was definitely going on. Something that felt wrong.

Although they hadn't spoken about it, it seemed as if Horikawa and Kanesada felt the same. The four of them were having lunch outside, making the most of the early spring sunshine, clustered around a picnic table and stealing each others food. Things had been fine until Kanesada had spoken up.

"Hey, Kashuu, are you going to tell us who the lucky guy is yet or what?"

"Kane-san!"

Horikawa looked horrified. Yasusada, eyes wide, hadn't even considered the possibility of Kiyomitsu seeing someone. Not without telling him. Kiyomitsu himself was shrugging.

"Who said there was one?"

He began to smile and carried on eating, ignoring the shocked expressions being directed his way.

Usually, even if they were to tease him about liking someone, he would be embarrassed. He would blush and splutter and change the subject; it was hilarious and the only reason they did it. This was far too calm. He turned his smiling eyes on Yasusada and leaned forward to delicately prop up his chin on one hand.

"What?" he asked in a lazy tone of voice. "Is there something you want to say?"

Yasusada wanted to ask why he was keeping secrets, where all his new trinkets were coming from, whether he really had been seeing someone after dark. The words failed to come, stuck in his throat behind a hard knot of anger and confusion. No, he shouldn't lie to himself. He knew this feeling well. Every time Kiyomitsu had someone to spend the night with it was the same.

He wasn't willing to put a name to it. Instead, he spoke the first words that came to mind.

"They don't suit you. Those new earrings."

Kiyomitsu looked hurt for a fraction of a second, lips parting and turning down at the edges. He recovered quickly and got to his feet.

"I'm not trying to impress _you_ so it doesn't matter, does it? Later."

He threw the others a wave and walked away, heading in the direction of the campus exit. The remaining three sat in silence for an awkward minute before Kanesada huffed and threw his arms up in an elaborate shrug.

"What's his problem, anyway? It's not like we'd be mad if he had a boyfriend. We've all known for so long that-"

"I don't think it's about that, Kane-san," Horikawa said tactfully, glancing at Yasusada who was still staring in the direction Kiyomitsu had left.

Yasusada felt sick. What was this stupid feeling? He hated it. All because of Kiyomitsu? What right did he have to make Yasusada feel like this?

"I should go," he said, starting getting to his feet.

He wanted to follow. What he would do after that he wasn't sure, but it was a start.

"Yasusada," Horikawa warned, "I don't think that's a-"

Horikawa was interrupted by a sudden rustling. With the snapping of twigs, a blonde boy struggled his way out of the patch of bushes directly in front of Yasusada and approached them, frantically brushing leaves and twigs off of his hood.

"Yamanbagiri-san?"

Yasusadas exit now being blocked he forced himself to sit back down. None of them felt the need to comment on Yamanbagiri's entrance. This sort of thing was fairly normal for the awkward youth.

Yasusada had always felt a sort of good-natured pity towards Yamanbagiri. Blessed with good looks, good grades and a healthy body he had been cursed with crippling shyness and self-esteem problems bad enough to rival Kiyomitsu's. He had probably been waiting in the bush for Kiyomitsu to leave. Yasusada didn't blame him. Not with the way he'd been acting recently.

"Come sit over here!" Horikawa called, scooting close to Kanesada so that his – embarrassed - little brother could sit next to him.

"But why..."

"You can sit here, Yamanbagiri-san," Yasusada said with a small smile, getting back to his feet. "I was just going anyway."

"Wait!"

Yamanbagiri pulled his hood a little further down over his face after this outburst but continued in a low and determined voice.

"Where has Kashuu-san been going?"

"Who cares?" Kanesada scoffed, still aggravated. He had begun reaching across the table and finishing off Kiyomitsu's discarded food. "It's none of our business, right?"

"Kane-san, don't be rude..."

"Am I wrong, though? _Honestly_ that guy has been really getting on-"

"He leaves the campus every night."

Yamanbagiri's voice was so quiet that at first Yasusada had thought he was hearing things. The others fell silent, looking confused.

"I think he walks into the town," he continued. "On his own. Every night. Is he okay?"

Logically Yasusada knew there were no reason to be worried. Kiyomitsu could look after himself. When they had used to spar at kendo club they had always been evenly matched. Kiyomitsu looked a little skinny but he was all muscle and sinew underneath.

The memory hurt to remember. He hadn't realised how much he missed those days. Remembering _now_ was stupid.

"Yamatonokami-san?"

Yamanbagiri was watching him with eyes filled with concern. Yasusada bit his lip and nodded.

"He seems fine."

"'Seems' huh."

An uncomfortable silence followed this dark murmur from Yamanbagiri. Unable to take the atmosphere any longer, Yasusada excused himself and headed back to his room.

When he opened the door, it was to find Kiyomitsu sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. Before Yasusada had time to back out and avoid the situation, the other looked up and caught his eye.

Kiyomitsu's makeup had run, just a tiny bit and his hair, usually so pristine, was tousled, his ponytail coming loose. For Yasusada that was enough to know he had been crying. Shutting the door gently behind him, he didn't know what to say.

"I suppose you want me to leave?" Kiyomitsu asked. His voice shook just a fraction.

"No," Yasusada said quickly, taking a small step forward. "I just-"

"You don't need to apologise, you know. It's fine."

"Kiyomitsu..."

"I'll go in a minute and stop bothering you."

"Just _wait_ a second will you?"

He hadn't meant to raise his voice. Kiyomitsu's eyes widened for a moment but he quickly recovered himself and raised one perfect eyebrow in question.

As silence fell between them, Yasusada realised he wasn't sure what it was that he wanted to say. He could apologise but it would sound too forced. He could reel off a few compliments, god knew it wasn't hard to find them, but Kiyomitsu wouldn't believe he was being sincere.

He wanted to explain the feeling, the coldness that crept into his chest whenever he thought about Kiyomitsu leaving. It felt like a painful memory he had somehow forgotten, like every time he watched Kiyomitsu leave he couldn't be sure that he would be coming back. It was strange, and powerful, and he knew he would be ridiculed for it. Or, worse, Kiyomitsu would understand and that meant there was _really_ a problem.

Lacking the words to say any of this, he sighed, brow furrowed in frustration.

"Are you okay?" he asked simply.

Kiyomitsu had a wonderful laugh. Yasusada had always loved hearing it. Today was different.

"I'm fine," he said, standing up and heading towards the door without fixing his hair or makeup. "Why wouldn't I be?"

As he reached Yasusada, he raised a hand and made as if to touch his cheek, changing his mind at the last moment and pushing an unruly lock of hair back towards his ponytail. It was a gesture from when they had been younger, and he had spent most of his time styling Yasusada's hair and complaining that he didn't take care of it.

When was the last time they had done something like that? That, too, was difficult to think about.

Realising he hadn't responded at all, Yasusada went to grab Kiyomitsu's hand but the other dropped it to his side.

"I'm fine. I'm loved, after all," Kiyomitsu said softly, laughing again before moving past Yasusada and out the door.

He stood still for a long time, still feeling the hand in his hair and hearing that strange laugh echoing around the room.

 _Loved_? But then...

"Enough already," Yasusada chastised himself. "It's not your business. It's not like you're friends."

He headed to the gym soon after. Sweating out his frustrations seemed easier than disentangling his feelings. If Kiyomitsu wanted to keep secrets, so be it. Maybe they had been friends once and maybe that was why it hurt so much to be left in the dark.

Maybe that was part of growing up. What did he know after all?

When it came to the subject of growing up, Yasusada had long ago decided that the whole process was a mess. There were the usual things, of course, like awkward growth and changes in voice and weird _feelings_ that boys had problems talking about. He had just about bumbled his way through all of that without too many problems, probably because Kiyomitsu would listen if he did want to talk about something.

Then there had been the other things, the bits he had never told anyone. Dreams, mostly. It had started bothering him when they were both teenagers and Kiyomitsu had begun talking about dating. He didn't have a problem with the other's preferences, not in the slightest. He hadn't given it much thought until he had begun dreaming about the other naked.

At first it had been innocent enough. Just sights, flashes of pale skin and well toned muscles. He would have brought it up as a joke between them if it hadn't moved on to his other senses. He would awaken with the memory of touch, of how soft and warm Kiyomitsu's chest would feel against his cheek, of the exact angle of his hips, of the curve of his shoulders. Then came sound, soft breathing, murmured words he could never catch, his name spoken so tenderly that he had once woken in tears. Lastly he had begun to experience taste, the heat of lips against his own and skin against his tongue.

It had been awkward. He had tried to be logical. Didn't most teenagers think about things like that while they were trying to find themselves? Surely it was normal. No point in bringing it up, no matter how many times his dreams revisited the same scenes. He had pushed them back successfully for years.

Besides, it wasn't _always_ about Kiyomitsu. Sometimes he would dream of Kanesada and Horikawa too, of talking and fighting together, but those dreams were always harder to remember. He had put it all down to the days they had all practised kendo even if it felt like more than that.

In fact, it was the same as the way he felt whenever he knew Kiyomitsu was out at night. A familiarity that made no sense and emotions that shouldn't belong to him, a sense of nostalgia that had no relevance to his life as he knew it. It was too strange to share.

He knew about the theory of reincarnation. Lately, he was thinking about it a lot.

It was a month later that it happened.

For the past week, Yasusada had been able to sleep through Kiyomitsu getting home. It had been making things a lot easier, even if they had barely seen each other, and although Yasusada's dreams had been bothering him it was easier than having an argument every time.

However one warm night the slamming of the door woke Yasusada with a start. His eyes slammed open and he sat up on reflex, heart pounding. The door was closed and he could just about make out Kiyomitsu leaning against it, his head tilted back towards the ceiling. In the tense silence that followed the sudden loud noise of the door, Yasusada could hear him breathing heavily.

He didn't want to say anything. It would be easier to lie back down and let him deal with whatever mess he had got himself into. That was what he _wanted_ to do. Instead he found himself swinging his legs out of bed so that he could sit on the side and raising his voice.

"Are you okay?"

Kiyomitsu slowly pushed himself away from the door and moved forwards, allowing Yasusada to see that he was carrying his favourite red scarf in one hand, letting it drag along the floor. As he walked, he pressed a hand to his neck and let out a low, dry laugh.

"You're asking this again, huh?"

He sat heavily on his own bed, directly opposite Yasusada, and met his eyes. This time, he wasn't smiling.

"What else am I supposed to ask?"

Kiyomitsu held his eyes a moment longer before closing his own and shaking his head.

"I didn't mean to wake you up. Get some more beauty sleep, okay?"

As they had been talking, Yasusada's eyes had been slowly growing accustomed to the darkness. The first thing that he noticed was that Kiyomitsu's lower lip seemed darker than usual. He thought it might be lipstick but a moment's study showed it to be blood leaking from a small cut to one side. Yasusada's breath stopped short.

"Kiyomitsu..."

"Yes?"

He lowered his hand from his neck and let it fall into his lap. Where his hand had been resting, Yasusada could now see dark bruises. His eyes narrowed and he balled his hands into fists.

"What did he do to you?"

"My scarf got torn. It was an accident."

"Answer the question."

I don't like that voice on you," Kiyomitsu said quietly. "It's too sharp. You're too nice for-"

" _What did he do?"_

Kiyomitsu touched a finger to his lip, winced, and gave a sigh.

"It's not a 'he', Yasusada."

"What?"

"I said it's not a 'he'. It's a 'they'."

Yasusada instantly pictured a group, thugs, dark alleyways, hidden weapons. He got to his feet and stepped forward, placing his hands on Kiyomitsu's shoulders.

"You were attacked?" he asked. "Should I call the police or-"

"No, _no,_ not like that. Only one at a time. Hah, I'm not that tough."

"What are you talking about?"

"Here."

Kiyomitsu brushed Yasusada's hand off of his shoulder and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a wad of crumpled notes and set them on the bed beside him.

"I don't charge enough for more than one at a time," he said softly.

Yasusada saw red. Not scarlet like the bright lacquer on Kiyomitsu's nails but a deep, blood red haze that concealed everything. It boiled up from the pit of his stomach and swam across his vision, making coherent thought impossible. For weeks and weeks it had been building, he'd tried to work it out but it was so _hard_ and here Kiyomitsu was making a _joke_ like it all meant _nothing_ and-

The sharp sound of a palm against a cheek rang out in the darkness.

"Stop it."

Kiyomitsu exhaled sharply, more of a sigh than a laugh. He raised a hand to his struck cheek and shook his head.

"You're as bad as them now, you know?"

" _Stop_ it already!"

"Why should I?"

For the first time since this had all started, Kiyomitsu raised his voice. The strange, satisfied smile had faded and a sharp edge crept into his words.

"Have you got a problem with it? It's not a bad profession, you know? Plenty of people do it. It's my body so I can use it however I want. I thought you were more understanding than this, Yasusada. I was going to tell you. When I was ready."

Kiyomitsu wasn't crying. Not yet. For the first time in years Yasusada could see his facade just crumbling away. Not since they were in their early teens had the other been so easy to read. He was insulted, upset, betrayed. Yasusada _knew_ it but he couldn't bring himself to back down. Not over this. Not when thinking about it made his skin crawl.

"Why?" he asked, surprised to hear his own voice shaking. "Why would you even think about..."

"The girls told me it pays well," Kiyomitsu replied simply. "And it does. But it's not just that. They... need me. I'm worth something. It's not like you'd understand. You've always had-"

"But I need you."

Maybe it was the dreams talking. The whole conversation felt surreal. Whatever it was, Yasusada raised a hand to softly touch the marks on Kiyomitsu's neck. The skin was hot and swollen to the touch. After a moment, his hand was pushed away.

"It's a bit late to be saying that, isn't it?" Kiyomitsu asked sharply. "I've been here all this time and _now_ you come out with it?"

He was right. Yasusada knew that. Still, the haze in his mind persisted. His chest was tight and it was hard to breath, the air feeling close and humid. He watched himself push Kiyomitsu back onto the bed, his hands on the other's shoulders, his knees coming to rest on the mattress.

"Yasusada, what are you-"

"Hey," he asked, voice low. "What do they have that I don't? You could have come to me but instead you-"

"Don't be stupid. Let me up."

Eyes closed, his lips brushed Kiyomitsu's ear and he felt hands pulling at his hair. He continued regardless, barely hearing himself speak.

"Do you like it rough? Is that it?"

"W-what are you-"

"I'll do it. Whatever you want. Just-"

"Stop it, Yasusada!"

He was pushed back by a hand shoving at his chest and he raised himself up with a gasp, eyes slamming open. Below him, Kiyomitsu was pressing a hand to his mouth, his cheeks flushed.

It was nostalgic. It was _wrong._ He didn't have time to process what he was doing before Kiyomitsu was raising his voice again.

"You don't get it! If you think this is about sex then you don't get me at all! They _love_ me. They make me feel beautiful. No one else has ever done that."

"That's not love. They don't love you. It's not the same."

"And what would _you_ know about love?"

Kiyomitsu pushed him again, knocking him back onto his feet. The other stood up, tears beginning to stain his cheeks and fixed Yasusada with a fierce glare.

"Don't you get it? _I've been here the whole time."_

Quickly, too quickly, he had pushed past and slammed the bedroom door behind him. Yasusada pressed a hand to his chest and willed his feet to move but to no avail. Screwing his eyes shut, he dropped to his knees and slammed a fist against the floor.

He didn't know what was going on, nor what he was doing. He had said too much, or too little, or just not the right things. Whatever the reasons behind it, it felt to him like something had broken. Whether it belonged to him or Kiyomitsu he didn't know.

 _Broken._ The word left him feeling sick.

He forced himself to sit up, mind reeling, and tried to think straight.

 _How can I fix this?_ he thought desperately. _What can I do now?_

It felt like hours later that he left the dorm room and headed out into the night. It didn't take him long to find Kiyomitsu. The first door that led outside from their block opened onto a small courtyard centred around a thriving sakura tree. The blossom seemed to glow in the moonlight, lighting up the whole area in soft luminescence. Kiyomitsu sat on the grass with his back to the tree, his head resting on his drawn up knees.

A petal had become caught in his dark hair. Yasusada sat beside him hesitantly and, when the other failed to respond, gently grasped the flower between his fingers.

"I don't think you understand," Kiyomitsu murmured.

The anger had gone from his voice, leaving him sounding tired. Yasusada laughed nervously.

"Neither do you."

"You probably think I'm ugly now. Don't you?"

This was the tone that had always been hardest to hear. Kiyomitsu sounded almost childish, beaten down with just the smallest residue of hope. Yasusada made a small noise of disagreement.

"You're an idiot."

"Thanks."

"And you make me angry sometimes."

"Likewise."

" _But_ ," he continued stubbornly. "I don't think you're ugly. I couldn't think that. Never."

Kiyomitsu didn't answer and still didn't raise his head. Yasusada watched the blossom fall for a while before speaking up again.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry. I just... whatever it is that you think you need from them, I wish you'd come to me instead. I... hate thinking about them doing that to you. About any of it."

"You can't give me what I want," Kiyomitsu said softly, after a moment of thought. "I... I came to terms with that a long time ago."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you've never-"

"You're beautiful, you know?"

Finally, Kiyomitsu lifted his head. His eyes were wide with surprise, their colour rich in the moonlight. Cheeks still flushed, he raised a hand to cover his mouth again as if afraid of what his expression would betray. Yasusada felt colour rising in his own face as he smiled weakly.

"Really beautiful," he continued. "I've been dreaming about it a lot."

"You... have?"

"Mm. I've been dreaming about a lot of things."

"Like what?"

It was like moving with muscle memory rather than thought. With one hand he gently lowered Kiyomitsu's hand from his mouth and laced their fingers together, cupping his cheek with the other. He leaned forwards, eyes closing, until he could just touch the tip of his nose to Kiyomitsu's. Heart in his throat, he raised his voice again.

"I feel like we've been here before. But I've never kissed you, have I? I'd remember if I had."

"S-stupid..."

Softly, Kiyomitsu squeezed Yasusada's hand. Yasusada opened his eyes enough to see that Kiyomitsu had closed his. His voice shook as he continued.

"Why didn't you say anything before? I've always... felt like we..."

"Tell me."

"B-but it's-"

Kiyomitsu's free hand crept nervously up Yasusada's arm and slid into his hair. He made no move to pull away.

"Say it. Please."

"I thought I was crazy."

"Me too."

"I've been dreaming about you for... a long time. But we're not even friends so I-"

"We're not friends. Do you know why, though?"

Kiyomitsu shook his head, unintentionally rubbing their noses together. Yasusada laughed lightly, beginning to smile.

"If we _were_ friends then we would be best friends. And if we were best friends since we were kids then people would call us brothers. I don't want that."

"W-why?"

"Because if we were like brothers then it would be wrong to do this."

After so long of dodging questions, avoiding uncomfortable trains of thought and trying to explain dreams away as foolishness, closing the gap between them was so easy that it stung. Kiyomitsu leaned heavily against him as they kissed, fingers curling into his hair and small, nervous noises sounding in his throat. He tasted like the memory of spring evenings, of laughter, of innocence. Yasusada lost himself to the sensation until he had to surface for air.

They held onto one another, breathing heavily, until Kiyomitsu managed to speak.

"If we're not friends, then what are we?"

"Whatever we want to be, I guess."

Kiyomitsu gave a breathless laugh, dropping his head to Yasusada's shoulder.

"Idiot. What sort of an answer is that?"

"An honest one. You should try it too."

"Now that's just rude."

Somewhere between laughing and trying to reply, Yasusada found that they were kissing again. This was fiercer, heated, and before long he could taste blood on his tongue. That, too, was familiar.

"Sorry," he said, pulling away. "Does it hurt?"

"It's fine." Kiyomitsu looked away, clearing his throat. "I'll... stop, okay? If you promise to-"

"Don't leave me alone."

"Yeah. That."

"It's a promise."

"What do we do now? About... everything."

Yasusada shrugged and turned his eyes up towards the moon.

"We could sit here and watch the cherry blossoms for a while."

"Mm. That feels right."

They were going to have to talk about it eventually. They would also have to talk to Kanesada and Horikawa, and to apologise to Yamanbagiri for worrying him. As far as Yasusada was concerned, all of that could wait.

"If this is what we managed to get up to during the first semester, I'm really worried about our future," he said brightly, earning himself a push to the shoulder.

"You're a pain in the ass," Kiyomitsu said quietly. Yasusada laughed and pulled him closer, nodding.

"Yep. But we're in this one together."


End file.
